Another Night Like All the Rest
by Summer Reign
Summary: It's time for Grissom to come home.


Title: Another Night Like All the Rest

Author: Summer Reign

Rating: T

Spoilers: Everything. And, when you get right down to it, this is a sequel to my story, "Another New Year's Eve," so there are spoilers for that one in here, too. It would be helpful, in some ways, to have read that first-but not necessary.

Disclaimer: "They" own it. I don't. All props (although, really?) to them for doing such a stellar job…the first 8 seasons, anyway. Also, props to Barry Manilow, who I lovingly lifted lyrics from on my two New Year's Eve stories. Another "Also"…the use of ellipsis in this story is intentional and probably annoying but a great deal of this story is just people having conversations—and pausing, floundering for words, etc. I just felt the need to tell you that so you don't think I'm a completely crappy writer.  
*****Deepest apologies to Cincoflex. She wrote a story called Bugging Mr. G, which I adored. And, apparently, my subconscious lifted something the little girl in the story called Grissom. Completely unintentional and I actually don't want to change my story, but I do want to acknowledge it. By the way, go over and read her story. It's adorable.**

This story is in response to CSI Online Forever's New Year's Resolution story challenge.

Summary: It's time for Grissom to come home.

XXXX

One generic ringtone. One name staring back at him from the screen of the telephone:

"Brass."

Gil Grissom's heart took a plunge toward his knees.

He knew this call would come. He warned her. She promised it wouldn't.

She promised.

Two rings…on the third, his voice mail would kick in.

Quick breath and time to face the inevitable: the end of his life.

"Tell me," he said, without preamble.

"And, hello to you, too, Gil."

"Sara?"

"It's not what you're thinking. Breathe. In…out…you know the drill."

Grissom found the nearest chair and sat down. He put his shaking hand to his head. Whatever Brass was calling for, it _wasn't_ a next of kin notification.

"Okay, now?" Brass said, after a few seconds.

"I'm fine," he took another breath. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Well, it _is_ Sara. But, she's not hurt or …you know. But, I am worried about her. I mean, I know you two are divorced and all but…"

"We're not divorced."

"You're not?"

"No," Grissom said. "Why? Did Sara tell you we were?"

"She told people you were no longer her husband. We all…just assumed."

"Interesting choice of words," Grissom said, once again feeling a stabbing pain in his gut. "We're separated."

"And…how's that working out for you?" Brass said, his inbred sarcasm putting in its first appearance.

"Jim…" Grissom said, warning of barriers not meant to be broken.

"I know, I know," he said and took a cleansing breath of his own. "Listen, the fact is, Sara killed someone."

"What?" Well, that got the attention of a few random teachers in the lounge. He gave a small smile letting them know everything was okay and he was sorry to have broken the reverential silence of the place.

"He was a serial rapist and it was in self-defense…during an apprehension, not…well…long story. I really don't have the time to go into it right now. But, the fact is…she…sort of brought things to a head and she did shoot him. Square between the eyes."

"Is she okay?"

"Right as rain."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Which is what worries me. No reaction, Gil. Does that sound like Sara to you?"

Grissom shook his head, and…miles away…Jim Brass took a very educated guess at what he was doing.

"Grissom. Take time off. Come here and see her. I think she needs…what we can't possibly give her."

"I don't know about that."

"About what?"

"About my ability to give her anything she needs."

"Do you still love her?"

"Of course."

"Then, there's your answer. No pride. No barriers. No second thoughts. I'm telling you, she needs you. Come. Or—at least, come and see me. I'll tell you the whole story and you can make up your mind after. Deal?"

"I thought we _were_ talking. Why can't you tell me the whole story now?"

"I told you. I don't have the time to go into it and it's not the same. Phones. Computers with my puss plastered all over the screen. I like seeing people face to face. I like hearing them breathe. Smelling their aftershave or their funk. I like knowing that I can smack the stubborn ones upside the head and knock some sense in them, if I have to." Brass paused, then went in for the kill. "We're talking Sara here, Gil. Am I asking too much? Remember how you felt just as you answered the phone a few minutes ago?"

"I'll call you and tell you when I'm getting in," Grissom said and, after giving himself a moment to calm down, he sprung into action.

XXXX

She was staring at him.

Great. He was on a half-empty flight and the old woman across the aisle was staring at him. He tried ignoring her for a while but she just wouldn't stop. Just kept looking at him with an unflinching, unrepentant stare and …

Sweet Lord…she was getting up.

The seat next to him WAS empty until the old woman plopped herself next to him.

He glared at her. Perhaps not the most charitable thing in the world to do but he really preferred to be alone. Especially since he was on his way to see…Brass.

"I know you," the woman said, answering his glare with an explanation.

"I don't think so," Grissom said, through semi-clenched teeth.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Say that again."

"I don't believe we know each other. You must be mistaken," he said, slowly. Just in case she was in the throes of dementia.

"Hmmm…yes. I definitely know you. Especially the voice. Well, maybe not know-know, but I have seen you or met you or something…"

"I … anything is possible, of course, but I have a pretty good memory when it comes to faces and …" Grissom frowned, trying to place this lady.

Probably not a day younger than 80. Short. Stout. Reddish brown hair, courtesy of Lady Clairol, certainly. Green velour track suit with a red sequined tank top underneath. Almost a week past Christmas and still celebrating. A casino bunny, for sure. Or … to be more precise, a casino rabbit. Nothing bunny-like about her, really.

And, still, he was pretty sure he never met her. He had a sneaking suspicion that, if he had, he would not find her that easy to forget.

She snapped her fingers. "Gristle!"

"Grissom," he auto-corrected, extremely surprised that she did, indeed, seem to know who he was.

"Betty," she said, sticking out her hand. He took the wrinkled hand with the dry skin and artificial dragon lady nails and gave it a brief shake. "We've never met face to face."

"Then, how..."

"Your girl. The one with the little gap in her smile? I know you through her," she said.

"She showed you a picture?"

"No. We spoke on the phone. You and I. Don't you remember? No—of course you don't. It was a few years ago now. The two of you were apart, for some reason, and she was going home—on New Year's Eve—ha! Just like today. Isn't that a coincidence to beat all? Anyway, she was all kinds of nervous and got a little tipsy and had to…well, barf, right in the middle of calling you when our flight was delayed. Oh—flight delay-hey…coincidence number 2. Man, I have got to hit those slots tonight. The odds are in my favor. After I met her, that was the most winning trip ever and…déjà vu, sort of.

Anyway, she handed me the phone and I talked to you for a few minutes and then—when I left the plane, feeling like an idiot because I didn't realize until she was out of my sight that she was the girl who was kidnapped by that nutjob who threw her under a car or something in the desert—well, that's when I saw the two of you in a clinch at the arrivals gate. So, technically, we never met and I'm pretty sure you never even saw me. You had your lips super-glued to your Sara. How is she, by the way?"

"I…don't know."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why not?"

"I…I um…am not trying to be rude but…"

"It's none of my business, right? Yeah, well. I'm old. I have no boundaries any more. And, not to be rude myself, but you're no spring chicken either. Wouldn't hurt to let yours down once in a while. A trouble shared is a trouble halved. Remember that. I'm gonna go back to my seat. But, I AM sorry," she said, standing up and adjusting her tank top.

"You don't have to be sorry. "

"No—not for interrupting you. It's not like you were doing anything but staring into space anyway. But I'm sorry because I thought—if any two people were meant for each other… It's just sad, you know. I almost wish I could have gone on believing you got married and lived happily ever after."

"We did," Grissom said, before he could stop himself. "Get married, that is."

Betty sat back down.

"You don't say. So, you're divorced?"

"No. Separated."

"Ah…" she said, leaning forward, "So…there's hope."

He shrugged.

The stewardess came by. "We're going to be delayed for another forty minutes or so. Can I get you something to drink?"

Betty held up two fingers…."Scotch on the rocks. Right, Gristle…Gris-some?"

He sighed. "Sure. That will be fine."

"Make his a double," she said.

XXXXX

"So, for her own good…you told her you needed to separate?" Betty said, trying to make sense of Grissom's surprisingly open admission.

"Yes."

"I still don't get it. What the hell is so good about her job that she can't leave it? She become a teacher or something?"

"No. She still works on dead people."

"Dead people."

"Yes, well…she tries to find out how dead people got that way. She's a criminalist. And, so was I. But, my specialty was bugs. Trying to determine cause of death using insects as…"

"Check, please!" Betty said to no one in particular and started laughing in a semi-hysterical manner. Grissom frowned. The dead weren't funny. And neither were bugs.

"Oh, lighten up, Gristle. It's…not a normal profession, is it? I mean, here I'm thinking your girl—wife—Sara—became a teacher after her…ordeal… she was pretty FUBARed when I met her and she …well, just went back to doing what she did before. So, she found this job so exciting she chose to see you long-distance instead of having a marriage in the conventional way?"

"She…asked first," Grissom said, suddenly defensive.

"And it was okay with you?"

"I…well, you know about her abduction, obviously. That was…an awful time for her. After she was away from it for a while and feeling better, she felt she had to prove herself again. I knew that. I understood. So, we agreed to a very short return to the job and the location where she felt she "failed," but it just got longer and longer…and we saw each other less and less. I was angry but I still understood. I never wanted to get in her way. But, I just…"

"Want another drink?" Betty said, looking around for the stewardess.

"We haven't even taken off yet and I've had three. Don't think I don't know what you're doing here."

"I know you do. But, I don't see you objecting too much. Sometimes, you need to get a little tanked."

Grissom put his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a moment.

Yes, sometimes, getting tanked was okay. God, he needed to talk, and there was something incredibly "motherly" about this woman, in a more conventional way than the one he was used to. But, still…no more booze.

"She was getting more and more involved with her work," Grissom said, through closed eyes. "And I spent more and more time worrying. Every time the phone rang, I thought it was going to be someone telling me she had been killed. When my friend called the other day—a friend who works with Sara—I thought … now… now he will tell me she's gone."

"I'm still not getting the 'for your own good' part."

"I thought, if I told her, I couldn't do this and we would have to stop this long-distance thing, one way or another…I thought she'd choose me. Maybe not right away but… I told her, so long ago—I told her—she was too involved. She would get hurt. I just…didn't think she'd choose work. But, she told me she wasn't finished yet. She had more to do. She did make that choice. She chose work. But, so did I, at one time. So…I can't be a hypocrite and expect her to do something I wasn't willing to do."

He sat there, with his eyes closed, remembering their conversation. Long pauses. A sob in her voice. But, firm determination, as well. Sara telling him that they had this worked out. There was no need for this ultimatum. Besides, he could move back home. Grissom trying to force her hand with tough love. His way or no way. He wanted her out of Vegas. He wanted her out of danger. He wanted her to not be a criminalist anymore.

It was quiet.

Did Betty leave? Did she die? Did he? He was too tired to open his eyes.

But, natural curiosity got the better of him.

His blue eyes opened and stared right at her green gaze.

"You are both a couple of shit heads," she said, plainly.

"I beg your…"

"Don't beg my anything. That's the problem with you egghead types."

"I thought we were shitheads…"

"That, too. The trouble with overeducated people is they think too much. I was married to my Stanley for decades. You think I mooned and spooned over him all those years? Nah. But, I loved him…deep down. Where it matters. And, it was forever. I would have kicked his ass if he pulled anything like this your career-my career shit. And, vice versa. Guess what? A career is just a job on steroids. A JOB. The Man paying you money to do shit. And when the Man dumps your ass—guess what? You find something else. Or, in your case, you go fishing."

"I'm not fishing. I'm not retired. Yet… I teach."

"Bugs?"

"Forensic science."

"Okay then. See, you got this. Sara—well, maybe she needs a shove. Get her on the phone. I'll tell her she's a shithead for you, if you want."

"No. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate it."

"Listen, sometimes, you get bogged down in stuff. And, you just need to be reminded of what's important. And—with marriage—you get this, I don't know—competitive thing going. This, 'if you love me X amount, you would do this' And, when you both are in that frame of mind—that's when all the trouble starts. Someone has to give. And, sometimes, you just need to know the other person is willing to let you win, even if it's not what they want or it's downright what they don't want. And, when that is expressed—well, then, you're okay and can let go of the mule-headed-ness. "

"So, I should tell her I'm moving back home."

"Only if you're willing to do it and won't hate her for it if she calls your bluff."

"I don't want to work as a CSI anymore."

"Then don't. Get a job teaching here. Or commute. I assume your current job is right here in San Francisco. Hey, you can even drive on weekends. You're a big boy. You don't have to do anything you don't want, as far as your 'career' is concerned. Put on your big boy Under-Roos and stick to your guns. But, at the same time, go get your woman. If…that's what you really want."

A drink. He wanted another drink. But…that wouldn't be wise. They'd be taking off in a few minutes, surely. And it was only 90 minutes to Vegas.

He opened his eyes and called the stewardess over.

"Can I have a coffee, please? Betty?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Okay. Would you mind going back to your seat for a while? I think…I'd like to call my wife now."

She leapt her feet with a big smile.

"You betcha!" she said, giving him a thumbs up and virtually prancing across the aisle.

He shook his head and pressed speed dial.

XXXX

"Grissom. What's wrong?" Sara said, in lieu of a more conventional greeting.

Geez. They were a pair.

"Nothing. I just wanted to say…hi. Uh…"

"Hi?"

"Yeah. And, I'm…sort of…on my way home."

"Home?"

"Vegas," he said, feeling foolish. "I guess I don't know if I still have a home."

"Of course you do. I haven't sold the house."

"No. But…you've told people you don't have a husband. So, maybe…that extends to property and possessions, as well. "

"Who told you that, Hodges?"

"No, not Hodges. And it doesn't matter."

"I was angry, at the time," she said, "And in trouble."

"I know. I know about that whole incident."

"Hodges…"

"Yes."

"Figures."

"You kissed a man," he said, unable to stop himself.

"I did. No excuse but…as I said, I was angry. It hasn't happened since. Not…that it matters. We are separated. I guess."

"Not legally," Grissom said, because—well, it did matter. Very much.

"No."

"Morally?" He pushed, even though he knew he shouldn't.

"No. I didn't take a moral break. I just…had a stupid moment. A very stupid moment. I was angry with you and wanted to hurt you. Even if I never planned on telling you. I'd apologize but…it didn't mean a thing," she said, and sighed. " Um…you said you were _sort of_ on your way home? Why?"

"I wanted to try and end this…separation."

"Oh," Sara couldn't hide the disappointment from her voice.

"I mean—I _want_ to … start over again. Or resume things or…I just want to be married again. Live with you. Work things out."

"Oh." Her voice sounded … well, not disappointed but far from happy. "Why now?"

"Why not now? We've done this for nearly a year. I miss you every day. I cringe when I see someone call me from the lab, even if they are just asking a question or shooting the breeze. And, if anything happened, being apart wouldn't cushion the blow. I know that now. I…will do anything to make this work."

"Maybe you shouldn't have to."

"Marriage is compromise. An old friend of yours told me that."

"What friend?"

"Betty. This rather eccentric elderly lady who likes to come to Vegas to gamble. She decided to sit next to me on the plane and give me marriage advice. Keeps calling me Gristle and plying me with alcohol."

"Betty!"

Great. Betty got more of a reaction than his wanting to reunite.

"Should I bring her home with me?" He asked, without hiding the snark.

"No. That's all right. Maybe I'll catch up with her at a casino."

"Should I bring myself home or just get off this very delayed flight and accept my fate as a lonely old bachelor?"

"Come home. We'll talk."

"Okay. I'll see you…later."

He put his phone in his pocket and sat back again.

They'd talk.

Not his strong suit. Maybe he _should _take Betty home with him. She could interpret for him. Call them both shit heads or egg heads or moose heads…

He'd laugh but he was too damned tired.

Betty sat back down beside him.

"Well?"

He looked at her. So much excitement in her eyes. _"Betty."_ That was kind of funny, now that he thought of it.

"You know," Grissom said. "You may have another reason to play the slots. My mother's name is Betty."

"No shit. Oops. I promised my kids I wouldn't swear so much anymore. It's those old broads at Bingo. Truck drivers would blush. Of course, I'm not so sure I'm old enough to be your mother…oh, who am I kidding? Sure I am. And, heck yeah, I'm playing the slots. There's this one called Betty the Yeti. I'm SO going straight for that one."

He smiled.

"So…" Betty continued, "Sara?"

"She's uncharacteristically reserved. That's usually my role in life."

"Eh. We all influence each other. Want another scotch?"

He laughed. "No. I'll talk without it. I'm too tired not to. Plus, my mother definitely would not have understood this. She was against the long-distance thing from the beginning. And, of course, this whole situation would be entirely Sara's fault," Grissom smiled. "I worked with Sara at the lab. I told you that already. So…we have mutual friends and I've kept up with most of them by email or phone. One, in particular, likes to email me on an almost daily basis. And, when I did the whole…ultimatum thing…Sara…kissed another guy and—and, for reasons I won't go into, they all knew about it. We were separated—not legally but…and she says that's all there was and she only did it because she was … I don't know. Lonely. Scared. Upset. But, It bothers me. So much. Well, in conjunction with the fact that she took off her wedding band shortly thereafter and…" he held up his hand to reveal his ring, still firmly in place. "What does it mean, ultimately? All these little things. Her non-reaction on the phone. Ever since I met her, I was scared she was too young, too beautiful…and, maybe I was right."

Betty flagged down a stewardess and asked for two cups of tea.

"We're going to be so sick," Grissom said.

"No—the tea will settle our nerves and neutralize all our various beverages. OK. You're verging on egghead territory again, so I think I need to talk. So, six years ago, I was on a plane on New Year's Eve…with your Sara. Young, beautiful and going home to you. She was also one big mass of insecurities. And, now, the situation is reversed. Not a coincidence."

"No? Then, what is it?"

"Fate. Listen, I remember her telling me she thought she was putting too much stock in the whole New Year's thing. But, there's something to it. Like—you could have delayed this trip until next week or next month. You've been separated for a while. A year. Or so I thought I overheard. Accidently, of course. So-why now?"

"Why not now?" Why were people always asking him that?

"No reason. It's perfect really. I told Sara, back then, that we give New Year's the attention that we should probably give every day. But, since we don't, it's nice to know that at least one day feels like all of them should. Fresh and new. A time to throw out the old junk—the old insecurities and fears and just let your heart guide you. So, she kissed someone. Big deal. She had enough time to do a lot worse, if she wanted to. And, a ring is just a ring. Except when it's a wedding band. You wear it to show your connection. And, you take it off when you're pissed. To remind yourself…and the world."

"You think?"

"Yeah. I do. But, mostly, I just believe in you. Both of you."

"You hardly know either one of us."

"Eh. I make good snap judgments. Ooh—look. Stewardesses …air hostesses…or whatever they like to be called this year—are getting busy again. I think we're going flyyyyy-ing. Want me to go back to my seat?"

"No. You can stay."

And so she did. Until they both had their tea and a complimentary cookie and fell asleep and snored for the duration of the trip.

Loudly.

_Both_ of them.

XXXXX

The plane landed in Vegas only three hours later than it should have. 10 PM. Still time to get home before midnight.

Grissom milled around with Betty as she was standing to gather her belongings.

"Don't wait for me! You have a girl waiting for you!"

"No. My friend is picking me up. Sara's at home."

"She's still waiting. I'll be at the Bellagio. Christmas gift from my kids. Last name is Robson. If you need to talk—or gloat or anything…I'll be there all week."

He stood and looked at her. Crazy, sweet lady.

"Thank you, Betty. Happy New Year!"

"Hey—That's Rich Bitch Betty to you…slots here I come! Happy New Year and good luck, kiddo."

She watched him walk away and then hurried and gathered her on-board bag. Her instincts were far too good and she was far too nosy not to want to confirm her suspicions and congratulate herself over her superior knowledge of human beings.

Off the plane she went, into the airport and…

Yup.

No old cop friend. Just a tall brunette.

He looked at her. She looked at him. Then she softly smiled and ran right smack in his arms.

A clinch. A more tender one than the last one Betty witnessed. He was kind of holding her like she was glass and she was holding him like she was…home.

And, Betty hoped Grissom would take a minute, sometime before the clock struck twelve, to realize that…

Sara's ring was right back where it belonged.

Third finger, left hand.

The hand that was gently caressing his back, over and over again.

God speed, Gristles.

She'd tell them that herself but…there was a Betty the Yeti machine out there with (literally!) her name on it.

XXXXX

Across town, a single large name glowed by the light of the moon.

"Brass."

In smaller letters, engraved in the tombstone, was the name "Nancy." The date of her birth; the date of her death. And, finally, the word, "Beloved."

Jim Brass was leaning against his car, and looking at the tombstone. He was glad it was the last one in the row. Right next to the road that led through the line-up of thousands and thousands of other graves. At least he could lean on something when he had his talks with his ex-wife. It was less formal than just standing there, looking down at the marble slab.

"So…I lied to the kid. Well, at first. I called her up and knew that she had talked to him already. Cause, she was kind of cold and distant. I think she was trying so hard to be this hard-bitten woman. She was going to make him pay, all right. And, somehow—even though he was hurt and standoffish when I talked to him— I don't think their breakup was as out of the blue as she made it sound to all of us. I lied to him, too. I knew they weren't divorced. I wasn't born yesterday. But, I don't think he knew what she had said. And I think it was time for a wake-up call.

Anyway, I told her that I was supposed to get Grissom at the airport but something had come up and could she do it…and, do you know what she said? 'Can't you call a cab?' You believe that crap? And then she asked if something really had come up or if I was lying to her. And, I said nooooo…and told her where I was going. That it was our wedding anniversary and I wanted to … be with you. Which, of course, is only partially true. July 4th is not even close to January 1st. But, creative license. I did want to be with you to usher in the new year, though. You shouldn't be where you are and I shouldn't be where I am. That's the truth. Toughest lesson of my life and I thought I had been through them all.

And she got it. I know she did. Not the lie part but the … twists and turns of fate or whatever…she got it. She's a smart kid.

So, I guess, maybe I'll see my New Year's resolution come true, huh? No one said I had to make one for myself.

But, I'll be damned if I let those two end up like us."

He straightened up and went to her gravestone. Took out a pristine white handkerchief and wiped non-existent dust from the engraved letters.

"It will be a better year, Nancy. I'll make sure of it. Love you." He said, nodding and quietly keeping his tears at bay.

And he turned and went back to his car, as the countdown to 2014 began.

The End.

XXXX

A/N: So, I know this is fairly long, for me. But, I love Betty. Maybe it's a bit Mary-Sue-ish (although, this character was VERY loosely modeled after my Grandma Betty, not me). But she does come to save the day (with a big push from Brass, of course). I won't go into my usual morbid tirade about CSI. I will just wish you all a very happy and healthy 2014. I truly loved the Grissom and Sara storyline. I've probably said all there is to say about that. But, if inspiration strikes again…I will take up the challenge. In the meantime, thank you for all your support and encouragement. I've been doing this writing thing for a very long time and there is nothing like having actual people reading my stuff! Bless you all.


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